Of Love and Rocketships
by HeidroRockets
Summary: "Sometimes the stars are wrong, Al, " Jean whispered to the blond beside him as they stared up at the night sky. "Sometimes it is just us... Fighting our own fights. That's what makes us human, right? " After Alfons finds himself in Amestris, it's all he can do not to lose himself like Edward did. Rated M for sex and violence. Constructive Criticism welcome.
1. Chapter 1

"Who… are you?"

Havoc could see him, standing there in the dark amongst the rubble and destruction, a boy barely old enough to be considered an adult. Jean raised the barrel of his gun and aimed at his chest, though Jean doubted the familiar looking boy in front of him would give him any resistance. The Lieutenant glared at the boy in an act to look threatening, like the gun pointed at his rib cage didn't get that point across. "Get on the ground." His tone was that of a soldier, firm and commanding.

The boy raised his hands slowly and Jean could see the small tremble in the motion. Well at least he succeeded at something, right? Blue eyes gazed up at him as the blond boy slowly knelt to the ground, hair falling into his face. "Please… I don't know where I am…" a soft tremor in the young man's voice betrayed his fear.

"That's why I'm here kid. We don't know either."

* * *

General Roy Mustang eyed the young man in the chair across the table from him. The boy was bound by his wrists and seemed unable to sit still. He had been tugging and fiddling with his handcuffs for a good hour, mumbling to himself in an accent he had heard only once before.

"Where are you from, young man? What's your name?" Colonel Riza Hawkeye was standing behind Roy, her arms crossed. As always she emitted an air of power over those around her, Roy was glad she was on his side. Apparently these questions had already been answered but were being reissued for the General's benefit as he had just arrived by train not an hour earlier. The boy, who looked to be about seventeen or eighteen, was fussing with the glass of water they had set in front of him when they brought him in. He looked up when he's addressed and Roy could see the resemblance to the boy that he used to know, a boy and his brother.

"I am from München Deutschland… er… Germany… Munich," the boy corrected himself, having previously gotten looks of confusion from his other interrogators. "And my name is Alfons Heiderich." And with that the blond boy looked back down at the cup he was holding, suddenly fascinated with the rim of the glass.

Mustang and Hawkeye exchanged heavy glances as Roy made the connection. That's where the younger Elric brother reported to see Full Metal in his dreams during his disappearance. The General stood and left the room, wanting to discuss the matter in private.

"That's why we called you, Sir… we didn't want to make any decisions without your consent," Hawkeye's no nonsense posture seemed to vanish when they were alone and out of sight of the boy. "The Lieutenant found him while was inspecting that crash site just outside central. No one around seemed to be hurt and there were no traces of a normal explosion," She continued, not waiting for him to respond. "However, there were traces of Alchemic activity much like the ones Major Armstrong had witnessed almost year ago in Reole and what we witnessed right here in Central." Mustang shifted his weight as Hawkeye spoke, contemplating her words.

"You said 'crash site'?" He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall as he waited for her explanation.

She nodded, "The night before last, we observed something man made and metallic fall from the heavens. We sent Havoc's team out to survey the area where it fell to be sure it wasn't enemy fire."

"So no explosion, yet there were traces of Alchemy… What do you think, Colonel?"

The woman closed her coffee brown eyes in thought, "I can't be sure, Sir, but I doubt that he was sent by the enemy" She was careful with her next words, "I believe he was sent by Edward Elric, Sir. You know the gate was difficult to close on our side… perhaps… he finally found a way to close it." When she looked back up at her commanding officer, he seemed disturbed.

"Is that what you truly believe, Riza?" His tone was careful and measured. She watched him for a moment and then nodded. "Okay then, what is it that you suggest we do?"

* * *

The interrogation room was dimly lit, outside it was dark and the only light was from a single lamp on the table in front of the boy that called himself Alfons. The glass of water was nearly emptied but he continued to occupy himself with the remaining droplets. Lieutenant Havoc had leaned himself up against the far wall to watch the boy while his superiors discussed his fate, but couldn't help his growing curiosity. How had that boy survived that explosion with nothing but a scratch? His clothes were nearly pristine, though the knees had been scuffed up, courtesy of Jean Havoc. Was this kid scared? On first observation, it didn't seem so, he would fidget and shift but whenever he was addressed, he would look them straight in the eyes. That was not something a fearful person would do. Yet, when Jean had first spoken with him, Alfons had been shaking in fear and every so often would grab his chest as he spoke… perhaps a tick? The Lieutenant took a step forward, "Would you like some more water, Kid?"

"No thank you," His accent was strong and Havoc wondered idly if that meant English wasn't his first language. "But if it wouldn't be a bother… could you remove these?" He raised his bound wrists, making the chain clink against the table, "I have done nothing wrong… and I have to use the restroom."

Jean sighed, "Sorry Kid, not until the Chief gives me the go ahead." Alfons lowered his head in frustration and shifted uncomfortably. "But… everyone needs a bathroom break, right?" Jean nodded his head, "Stand up, I'll show you the way."

With a sigh of relief, Alfons stood up, keeping his arms close to his chest. Jean placed a hand just above Alfons's shoulder and led him out into the hall and towards the restrooms. "Why are they keeping me here like this? Have I done something wrong?" The boy kept his eyes forward, as they walked through the compound.

"Protocol, sorry Kid." Havoc reached into his pocket and pulled out an unlit cigarette to place between his lips. He hadn't had a break since he had brought the kid in and he was way past just an itch of a craving. When Alfons had found a spot to relieve himself, Jean walked over to the window and lit his cigarette. A deep breath sent a rush of Nicotine up to his head. Finally… He glanced at his detainee, who was sighing in relief. "I'm sure the chief will figure out what to do with you soon enough and we can get you out of those." Alfons looked over at the taller man as he spoke, "I'm sure you must be hungry too, I'll see if I can't find you some grub." Alfons smiled a little in thanks; at least someone was trying to be kind.

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Ah! No… stop it!" Alfons squirmed under the inquisitive hands of the older man. Large hands had pushed up his white shirt to reveal his pale back where a nasty looking scar was being poked and prodded. Alfons laughed suddenly and pulled away. "Ticklish…" He mumbled in embarrassment as the doctor glared at him. As had been decided by the General, Lieutenant Havoc had taken the foreign boy to the infirmary for an examination. They needed to decide for sure if he was actually human or if he was some sort of Chimera, though they doubted it.

"A gunshot wound?" The doctor frowned as he moved in for closer examination of the scar, "When did you get that? The skin is new…" Jean watched as Alfons tried to get a better look at what the doctor spoke of. It was kind of amusing.

"Oh! That's what that was…" Alfons seemed a bit distracted as he tried to reach back and touch his scar. Suddenly he turned pale and started coughing violently into his hand. The sound was gut wrenching, and sounded like an old man that had been smoking every day of his life. When he pulled his hand away, there was a small amount of blood in his palm. The boy cursed in some foreign language and the doctor handed him a tissue.

"How long has that been going on?" The doctor asked, clearly bothered. Alfons shrugs, "It's from the smoke of the machines… I've known about it for a while… My doctors said there was nothing they could do, I am too far gone I guess…" His tone was absolutely pitiful. He had given up too, it seemed. The old man had begun writing furiously on his clip board when Alfons lowered his shirt and got off the bed. "Mr. Havoc, can I have that food you promised me?"

Havoc smiled and glanced at the doctor, playing with his tobacco stick between his lips, "Just as soon as the doctor here clears you. Though with that cough of yours—"

"He can't fix that." Al's interruption surprised Jean. The kid had been pretty well mannered until then but the look on his face was almost angry. "So leave it be… please."

The doctor sighed and looked at Jean, "He's right… other than the cough, he's good to go… I would suggest bringing him to a more specialized doctor if you're willing to fight him on it."

As if on cue, he mumbled over the doctor's words, "it wouldn't change anything." And crossed his arms in defiance. Havoc smirked and shrugged his jacket on, "Come on kiddo."

* * *

General Mustang had been clear that the rest of the government was not to know about the appearance of the boy from the other side of the gate. He wanted to be sure that the government would not take the kid. The only way to get more answers from him was to keep him close. Close and a secret. So it had been decided that he would house with Lieutenant Havoc under the ruse of being a distant cousin that was visiting from the country side. Havoc was not particularly excited about his new forced house guest, but it couldn't be helped. Luckily he actually had a guest room, though for the past few years it had served as a storage room. Alfons walked into the room and couldn't hide the disgusted look on his face. It smelled like mildew, old papers and an ash tray.

"Oh it's not that bad…" Havoc sighed and set down the bag of new clothes they had bought for him. "I'm going to make some dinner… you can just push those boxes to the wall. There should be fresh sheets in the closet over there." Jean nodded over toward the closet that was mostly hidden by boxes before he slapped the kid on the shoulder. "Good luck."

Al sighed and closed the door when Jean had left. He moved toward the far wall, mounting and dismounting larger piles of boxes to get to a window. The stale air had not helped the smell of the room. Was this what Edward had felt like when he found himself in England? Out of place? Lost? The man he had been forced to room with was not unkind, but it was clear to him that neither liked their current situation.

With the window now opened, and the outside air creeping in, Al took a deep break and began to work.

* * *

It had been almost two weeks since moving in with the Nicotine addicted soldier. Alfons found himself holed up in his room most of the time. There was no reason for him to come out except for essentials like food and the bathroom. Over those past weeks, he cleared most of the boxes from sight, rearranging the closet to force the paperwork into its confines and forced the Lieutenant to clean out the rest that he couldn't store away. The man was away from the apartment most of the time anyway due to the amount of work that the General seemed to toss at him. Al didn't mind though. He would take that time to stare out the window onto the street. He watched people he didn't know walk back and forth, absorbed in their own lives. He observed as the men would hurry about their work early in the mornings, leaving their homes, wives, and children. His favorite would be when the woman came by with her dogs. He could hear them barking from around the block. Too bad the Lieutenant didn't have a dog.

The boy was getting antsy. He got up and turned on the radio. The crackling voice that came through, reported on the rise to power of the new Führer King, "A man who has seen it all! He's worked side by side with the working class of Amestris, fought alongside her soldiers. What better person would be fit to lead this country than—" Al turned it off, he didn't care about this country, he knew the name that would have followed wouldn't be Adolf Hitler. He sighed and glanced at the clock. If Lieutenant Havoc got out on time, then he would be back in another two hours…. He glanced toward the window; there was a little patch of grass across the street. He could go outside and as long as he stayed close and was back before Havoc got back…. Al stood up before he had a chance to change his mind. He looked at the clock one last time before he slipped out the door and out into this new world.

* * *

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